My dear friends, I solemnly swear that all that nasi lemak, bah-chor-mee, fudge cake, cheesecake, chicken pie, and tony romas last week had, with the efficiency and navigating prowess of a F1 champion, taken citizenship at my once-but-no-longer-slim-and-taut waistline. Self-denial was swift, the waist custodian, aka me, had my first out-of-body experience..... watching on like a helpless trapped mouse, as each contestant raced to conquer and mark its territory on the waistmap. Conquest was swifter, 1 to the foods, 0 to me. It was warfare strategy at its finest, they made the gulf war look like a kid's pie.
In sorrow we grieve, for the demise of a body part so crucial to the fragile feminine esteem..... hey, is that a piece of my crushed shattered ego you're stepping on?!
